It A Tragedy
by PoisonedChuugoku
Summary: He was just a normal kid; he didn't have many friends and his relatives weren't the nicest of people, but he was just a normal kid. Just Harry. But if you were to make him the lead role of one of those best sellers that he always sees at the library, then he would be the first to admit that it wouldn't be a happy story.


**Author:** PoisonedChuugoku

**Summary:** He was just a normal kid; he didn't have many friends and his relatives weren't the nicest of people, but he was just a normal kid. Just Harry. But if you were to make him the lead role of one of those best seller books that he always sees at the library, then he would be the first to admit that it wouldn't be a happy story.

**Features:** Creature!Harry; Multiple OCs; Character death in later chapters

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

**Prologue**

"_Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor."_ – Sholom Aleichem

_Year of 1988_

If you were to ask a certain green eyed boy with a lightning bolt scar when his life changed, he wouldn't know what to tell you. Was it when he was attacked? Was it when he was told by his aunt to go to the grocery store? Was it when he was first told that his parents were drunks that died in a car crash? Or was it when he was first left with the Dursleys? No matter the case, Harry Potter knew that it didn't really matter.

He was a rather small boy, the shortest in his entire class, with messy black hair and green eyes. He was thin and pale and he rarely had a smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, there would sometimes be a hint of one whenever he found something rather amusing, but it didn't happen too often. Not often enough for a child his age.

Harry knew that children his age were allowed to go outside to play with friends instead of doing chores. Harry knew that children his age got rides from their parents to get to school instead of walking out in the middle of a heavy rainstorm. Harry knew that no ordinary child had an abnormal scar or had any abnormal things happen around them. Harry knew all of this.

However, he didn't mind.

Better me than them, he would think to himself as his Uncle Vernon would slap him upside the head when he would accidently burn the toast. Better me than them, he would think as his cousin Dudley and his friends would play their favourite game, Harry Hunting. Better me than them, he would think as he is scolded by a teacher for stealing someone else's toy, even if he actually didn't do it.

There were times though when Harry cursed himself for things that he had no control over.

It had been a normal enough day. There was a slight overcast that threatened rain, though Harry had a feeling that it wouldn't be for a couple hours yet. His Aunt Petunia had screeched at him that morning to go grocery shopping once he finished school, quickly shoving a crumpled list and a bag of euros into his hands and pushing him out the front door. Harry wasn't stupid; he had a feeling that his Aunt Petunia just wanted him out of the house when the neighbours and their kids came knocking in search of tasty sweets and treats. As he walked to school, he spotted his aunt driving not a few minutes later, Dudley in the back seat. His cousin seemed to be demanding yet another thing from her, something which his aunt smiled at, nodding in agreement.

Instinctively, the green eyed boy slowed his steps. He didn't care that he would be late walking at the rate he was, he didn't care that the clouds above thundered, light little rain drops falling down and landing on the bridge of his nose. He only wished that he could avoid Dudley for as long as he could before school actually started.

For once, whatever God up there seemed to have granted his wish, for the moment at least. Harry silently gave himself a pat on the back for managing the whole day without Dudley bothering him, physically at least. As quickly as he could, the green eyed boy grabbed his back pack (one of Dudley's hand-me-downs; there was a rather large tear in the bottom that threatened rip, which would cause his books to fall all over the floor) and hurried out the door, pulling out the crumpled list of grocery items that he needed to get.

He supposed that he should have been careful. Harry knew that around this time of day, there were people out and about, people that he didn't really want to run into. He had almost made it to the book store when he was suddenly grabbed. His back pack fell off, scattering all of his books over the pavement, his round glasses cracked as they fell off, the list fluttering to the ground. Harry felt himself being dragged and he struggled to get his pursuer to let go of him. There was a deep chuckle, a chuckle that brought shivers down his spine and he was thrown into a wall.

"Get on up, ya leetle tyke!" Came the voice. It was a bit weezy, the kind of voice that was seemingly out of breath all the time. Yet, when Harry opened his eyes, all he could make out was the blurred shape of a lean, tall man that was hovering over him. Immediately, he pushed himself to his feet, head whipping around to find a place to run. But everything was blurry and he couldn't see a thing.

"Well, what are ya waitin' fer? Start runnin'!" The man let loose an almost insane cackle. "Run leetle boy, run! I can't wait ter catch ya!"

So, Harry took off. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he was going. It was fight or flight, and Harry had learned a long time ago that flight was usually the better option when the other person is larger and tougher than you are. Several times he ran into things, as blind as he was without his glasses, something that his pursuer laugher manically about. He knew that he wouldn't be able to run.

Something slammed into his head and Harry couldn't stop the piercing scream that escaped his lips. It was as sharp as a knife, yet it seemed bigger, and it sent the little eight year old sprawling across the ground. He struggled to stand but a kick sent him flying back into the wall behind him.

"Such a shame, that was," the man said. Harry could barely make out the man's tall silhouette as black started to consume his vision. He couldn't move, even if he tried. The man's head tilted to the side.

"Oh? Are ya dead?" An evil smirk played on the man's lips as he continued closer and closer to his quarry. "Such a fragile thing, ya are. Just small enough for me ta easily fit ya in my mouth. I bet ya taste mighty fine…. Plus, your kinda cute too, aren't ya?" Another chuckle. Harry's mind was racing about a thousand times per minute. He couldn't move, he couldn't run, he couldn't see. He thought it was the end.

But apparently not.

The thing that Harry didn't know was that the man who was chasing him had dragged him all the way to an out of the way construction site. Far up at the top of the unfinished building right above them, stood a boy, staring at his watch. When the minute hand struck the fourth hour, the boy's dark grey eyes flickered over to the nearby support beams that were being hung up by a thick rope. And for a single moment, his eyes glowed an eerie silver, and a full blown grin came onto his face.

It was like a knife as a splash of silver light cut the edge of the rope, and the string began to slowly unravel. Down below, the man was still mocking his prey.

"I wonder what ya taste like…," he muttered, licking his lips. "Maybe it's time I find out, ain't it?" The man began to slowly stalk closer and closer and closer…. But then he stopped and looked up.

"What the-?"

There was a loud clatter as the support beams fell down onto him, crushing him beneath their combined weight. Harry blinked slowly before turning his head upwards.

For a moment, he followed the man's gaze towards the top of the building. And he could have sworn that there stood a boy with dark grey eyes, laughing manically to the sky. But when he blinked again, there was nothing except blackness.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That had been several weeks before. Halloween had come and gone with a call to the Dursleys about their nephew being in the nearest hospital's care. According to the doctors, eye witnesses said that he had been injured at a construction site next to a pile of fallen support beams. "Almost crushed," they had said. It was also mentioned that there had been a man underneath the beams, crushed to death due to the combined weight when the rope unraveled and sent them down to Earth.

Vernon had turned slightly purple and Petunia had pursed her lips. Harry knew that he would be in for it when he got out of medical care.

And boy did he get it. Petunia had doubled the amount of chores that he had to do around the house and Vernon…. Well, let's just say that Harry had never been better acquainted with Vernon's belt. But the green eyed boy didn't really care about that.

No. He had other things to deal with.

For one, the Dursleys refused to take him to a therapist, something that Harry knew was most likely required, but he didn't bother arguing. The experience in and of itself had left Harry prone to disturbing nightmares and moments of unawareness. He would zone out for minutes at a time, paying no attention to the things going on around him. Teachers complained and punishment was doled out. However, it only got progressively worse.

Harry wouldn't eat.

He couldn't. Everything tasted bland to him. Whatever he managed to swallow, he became violently sick afterwards. He would be away for days at a time trying to recover, never mind the fact that Petunia still had him do chores. But that wasn't the most disturbing thing.

Over the course of that time (about a month or so after the incident), Harry began to notice that he was getting hungry. He also began to notice the oddly pleasing smells that came from his relatives. It wasn't just them though. Just about every person he walked past or came into contact with smelled good; his teacher smelt like a warm bowl of soup that he bet tasted delicious; one of Dudley's friends Marco smelt like a hot dog that Vernon would cook on the barbeque (which Harry never got to try); one of the girls in his class smelt like a juicy piece of steak. Harry hit himself upside the head for think those thoughts.

But he kept on getting hungrier and hungrier and hungrier aNd HUNgrIer AND HUNGRIeR AnD HuNGRiEr a-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dudley was chasing him again. Harry had been running as fast as he could, his round glasses (having been found and fixed by the doctors at the hospital) threatening to fall off his face. Yet as fast as Harry was, Dudley would manage to catch him; his cousin was as determined as a dog in addition to the fact that he knew the neighbourhood better.

Harry tripped, falling face first onto the sidewalk and Dudley took that chance to jump on him.

Punch after punch, hit after hit, Harry tried desperately to get away. And suddenly, it wasn't Dudley on him but that man from a month ago, a triumphant grin on his face as he leaned over to take a bite out of-

There was a _crack_.

And it was quickly noted by Harry that Dudley had scooted off of him, his arm bent at an unnatural angle and a piercing wail left his fat little lips. The whale rushed back to the Dursley residence and Harry followed, the smell of Dudley's pain and anguish finally becoming too much for his instincts to overcome. Vernon stormed out of the kitchen, Petunia holding Dudley behind him.

"WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU BASTARD FREAK?!"

And suddenly, Harry felt a hungry grin stretch onto his face as Vernon rushed him. The green eyed boy nudged the front door closed with his foot, locking it before dodging the lumbering man as he came at him with a raised fist. Instinctively, Harry then jumped onto Vernon's back and bit into his thick, meaty throat.

It tasted delicious. Better than delicious.

Harry swallowed, drool coming from his mouth before jumping off. Vernon stumbled in shock and surprise before falling to the ground, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his neck that was vaguely in the shape of sharp teeth marks. Petunia screamed. Harry grinned, turning to his aunt and cousin.

"You know," he whispered, his voice soft yet his grin harsh and merciless, "I've started to wonder how you taste like…." Petunia grabbed Dudley and pulled him back into the kitchen. She scrambled to reach the phone.

"Stop." She stopped.

"Turn around." She did.

"Mum?" Dudley asked fearfully. Harry stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his green eyes glowing brightly. He then pointed at his fat lump of a cousin.

"Kill him."

Petunia's body walked woodenly towards the knife rack. Dudley was backing away as his mother advanced upon him. Her eyes had turned a strange silver colour and they stared blankly at the boy that was her son. She raised the knife and Dudley let out a horrified scream.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Harry stood silently, looking over the mess that he had created. Blood coated the floor all around him, the bodies of his relatives tossed around carelessly. Harry had Petunia cut Dudley up into itty bitty pieces before he had her start cutting herself. First her legs then her arms. He let his little hypnosis ability drop so that he could kill her himself, grinning all the while.

But then, the magnitude of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks.

What had he done?

The blood was making him nauseous. And he was drooling, the saliva coming out from the sides of his mouth as he breathed in the scent of his dead relatives. Hastily, he clamped a hand over his mouth. In shock, he wondered what would happen. Had the neighbours heard? With a gulp, he quickly ran from the scene, throwing the front door open and running. It didn't matter that fresh blood clung to his clothes or that he left the door open, revealing the mess he had created.

He didn't stop running.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In a castle room in a place presumed to be Scotland, Albus Dumbledore rolled over in his sleep, mumbling something about "the Greater Good". Alarms in his office were ringing, yet he was too deep in his dream to wake up and find out that The-Boy-Who-Lived had just run away.


End file.
